Hope
by Minako Aria
Summary: A birthday present I wrote for a friend! One member of Weiss mourns what could have been and it's up to another to show him what could yet be.


Future Happiness  
  
Ken sighed, pushing the door to his room closed behind him with his foot. He tossed his briefcase to the side without looking and loosened the tie around his neck. It was dark, but not so dark he couldn't see; the dim orange light from the setting sun infused the room with a warm glow that did not go unnoticed by the morose brunette.  
  
Without stopping he shuffled to his bed and flopped on his back, his arms spread out to his sides. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath trying to ease some of the tension that had built up in his shoulders and back.  
  
His part of the mission's information gathering had been successful. He felt awful. He'd gone undercover at a middle school in Tokyo where young boys and girls had been mysteriously disappearing for several months now. It turned out it was probably more like several years. The culprit was the much loved and well-respected elderly schoolmaster; she'd been ferreting out the "trouble children" and then kidnapping them. She had made a small fortune selling them into slavery and God only knew what else.  
  
Weiss had known of the kidnapping, but Krikiter had been unable to discover the mastermind. That had been Ken's job. He had quickly become popular in the two weeks he had been planted as a Math teacher / soccer coach. Teachers and children alike had had no trouble confiding in him.  
  
Ken flopped over onto his stomach. He was glad he'd discovered the culprit. He dreaded the killing he knew would come, but felt a certain grim satisfaction knowing that twisted old bag would pay for her crimes. But more than anything he felt regret, and loss. He regretted the necessity of lying to the children, and regretted disappearing without a word even more. It was the kind of job he'd always seen himself taking on in the future, back when he had one.  
  
As a J-League player, Ken had known he would have at least enough to put by so that he could eventually do what he loved best: teach soccer. He had always hoped he could one day settle down and have the chance to pass on his love for the game to others. This mission had reminded him of what he had lost, of what he could never have now, and it hurt deeply.  
  
There was a knock at his door. Ken threw an arm over his eyes and waited; he knew who it was, and knew he didn't need to extend permission for his guest to enter. A few seconds later the door swung open, then quietly closed again and soft footsteps approached his bedside.  
  
A tall shadow blocked the sunlight for a moment, and Ken moved his arm to squint up at its owner. "Konbanwa," he mumbled. Yoji smiled softly. "Konbanwa. How was your day?"  
  
Ken sat up slowly, accepting the bottle of beer he was handed and making room for his teammate. "If you mean how was the mission," Ken replied, "it was fine. I have all the information we need. If you mean how was my day . . ." Ken's voice trailed off meaningfully.  
  
Yoji nodded silently, waiting for Ken to speak if he wanted, not pressing. All was silent, save for the sounds of cars outside the window and people walking down the sidewalk directly under his window. The slim blonde took a sip of his drink, eyes facing forward, but gaze upon his friend nonetheless.  
  
Ken's face was shadowed, his gaze shuttered. One hand held his bottle loosely, the other rested on his knee. Everything about his posture told Yoji his friend was unhappy. They had been teammates for years, and had become close friends over the last year and a half. It was only in the last three or four months that the friendship had shown signs of leading to something else, something closer. But neither man was in any rush to explore the new bond growing between them, both sensing it was best to take this slowly.  
  
It was a few minutes before Ken spoke, and when he did his voice was soft and thoughtful. "This mission . . . it reminded me of what I lost. Before all this," he gestured vaguely with the hand that held the bottle, "before Weiss, before I 'died,' I wanted to be a soccer star. But after that, I wanted to teach. I've always had this affinity for kids, so teaching just seemed like the perfect job . . .:"  
  
Ken put down his bottle and rested his face in his hands. When he spoke again his voice was slightly muffled. "It hurts Yoji. Experiencing what could have been. It was hard enough to force myself to accept I couldn't have my dreams when I first joined Weiss. It's taken me years to really push it down, and now this."  
  
Making an exasperated noise, Ken ran his hands through his hair roughly. "It's just, just lonely Yoji. Just depressing and lonely, and I can't seem to escape those feelings no matter what I do."  
  
Eyes the color of chocolate sought out the shadowed jade across from them. Yoji sighed, putting down his own drink before reaching out to gently brush the over-long bangs from Ken's eyes with one long fingered hand. Ken's eyes fluttered, and he leaned into the touch slightly. Yoji's other hand took Ken's and drew him closer.  
  
"I can't give you back your future Ken, no one can. It's gone. But I do understand. We all do, we all lost our chances for a future we wanted. But you don't have to be lonely." Yoji smiled rakishly, "you have me, after all." Ken chuckled, squeezing his friend's hand slightly, "baka. . . "  
  
"Oi!" Yoji protested lightheartedly, punching lightly at Ken's shoulder. The two chuckled; both knowing it was only a temporary release of tension, both not caring. Any release was rare and much appreciated.  
  
The room had grown darker, the sun only a thin sliver of light on the horizon. Both men felt the precise moment that the mood shifted. Something in the quality of the light made the air seem almost shimmery, still and intimate and thick with promise. A mere moment of indecision, and then Ken moved. Reaching out, he let his fingers brush through the soft wave of hair the hung around Yoji's face before reaching back to let the rest of the gold-brown mass loose from its confinement at the back of his head.  
  
Yoji leaned into the caress willingly, one hand raising to hold Ken's hand in place, the other tracing the smooth curve of the brunette's jaw. Eyes never leaving the others', the two kissed.  
  
It was not the first kiss for either man, but it was their first kiss, and as such was somewhat exploratory in nature. It was slow, and soft, and warm, and both were dimly aware of being pleased with the other's skill. Yoji nibbled lightly on Ken's lower lip, soothing the spot with a brush of his tongue.  
  
He was granted entrance immediately, and the two eagerly explored each other's mouths. Ken moaned softly; he had imagined this happening of course, but the reality was so very much better!  
  
It was with the greatest of reluctance that the kiss was broken. They paused for a moment, foreheads touching, breathing a little unsteadily. This time Yoji broke the silence. "Wow," he whispered softly. Ken chuckled, "Yeah, wow seems appropriate."  
  
"I wanna' do this right," Yoji said, suddenly serious. "I don't want to mess this up Ken. I want to take this slow, make sure we do everything right."  
  
Ken smiled. "We will." Yoji flushed slightly, feeling a little embarrassed. "So," he said, suddenly standing up and pulling Ken up with him, "how does Chinese sound? It's not exactly romantic, but it's cheap and I know this place with damn good duck!"  
  
"Perfect," Ken replied with a grin. He grabbed his keys on the way out. /Maybe there's some hope for my dreams yet. . . / 


End file.
